take this sinking boat (and point it home)
by MG12CSI16
Summary: The next time Donald Ressler sees Elizabeth Keen she's got blonde hair and a baby on her hip. [AU/Post season 2, Established Keenler]


First attempt at The Blacklist/Keenler. Ignores bits of the finale (no Tom) and centers on Ressler and Liz secretly being together before the set-up (sometime just before Tom comes back from Germany in the show) before going completely AU.

Side note, dorky me got really excited when the promos came out because I wrote this way before then and now Liz actually does have blonde hair. Other side note, I know it's unlikely Red would leave their location out in the open like he does here but to be honest most things he and Liz have done this season haven't exactly been what I'd call 'safe' so I'm keeping it.

* * *

 **Take this sinking boat (and point it home)**

The next time Donald Ressler sees Elizabeth Keen she's got blonde hair and a baby on her hip.

It's hard to make out her face at first, because it's a surveillance photo Aram manages to get off of a security camera somewhere in Phoenix, but it only takes a few seconds of intense staring and breath holding for Don to realize that he's looking at Liz.

It's been sometime since he's seen her (almost eighteen months) but he recognizes the lines of her face and the way she purses her lips when she's nervous and if he ignores the blonde hair and the fact that she looks exhausted and terrified she looks exactly the same as the day she left.

Don spends a lot of time thinking about that day, wonders if he could have fought harder and if it would have made a difference or if he should have found some way to go with her because no matter how dedicated he is to the bureau he would have followed her.

Sometimes he likes to think he would follow her anywhere.

Unfortunately for Don, it doesn't happen that way; she escapes with Red just like he thinks she will and he doesn't get to say goodbye, doesn't get an explanation even though he knows she would have said she was protecting him and everyone else as well as herself and in the beginning he is angry.

He's angry at Liz and at Tom Connolly; he's angry at Red and everyone who fueled this ever burning fire until it was so out of control the only thing they could do was sit back and watch it burn, but most of all he's angry at himself.

They hadn't been together very long before everything went spectacularly to hell and if Don's being honest they weren't exactly good at being together. She's still distrusting and hesitant and more often than not he dreams of Audrey. They were dysfunctional and awkward and communication was a problem; anything that didn't pertain to work or mundane things like the weather was difficult to talk about but there was still this inkling on contentment when they were together.

In the beginning he thinks it's because they're the same. Both broken and scarred; jagged pieces of their pasts glued back together with the hope of finding something brighter and Don is almost sure it's the only reason they work until they're lying in bed one night, Liz already asleep beside him and this little part of him just _knows._

It's like it was with Audrey but at the same time it's not because Audrey was warm and open and Liz is a door with countless locks that Don can only pray he finds the keys to, but there's still this little part of him that knows it all makes sense, that all of these differences will eventually diffuse because he _wants her_.

And even now that still hasn't changed.

/

Two days after Aram brings him the photo of Liz, Don comes home from the post office and finds a note taped to his door.

At first he just stares at it, knows it's not from his neighbor because the crotchety old man always waits until he's home for the night to come and complain about whatever's bothering him that day, and it takes a solid minute before he finally rips it off of the door and inspects it carefully.

It's a plain piece of lined paper, torn hastily in half and marked with blue ink, an address scrawled in chicken scratch that Don can barely make out. Though at first it means nothing to him the gears slowly start to turn in his head and he remembers that photo of Liz and the baby, something tight grabbing at his chest as the reality of the situation slowly washes over him like a cold shower.

Reddington.

Without even thinking Don quickly enters his apartment, the paper held tight in his grasp as he throws his things down in the hall and digs his phone out of his pocket, dialing Aram's number.

The other man picks up on the second ring and Ressler wastes no time barking the address at him though he knows his friend has no idea what he's talking about. It's not until he manages to choke out the word "Liz" that the same realization begins to wash over Aram and suddenly Don can hear his frantic typing and words mumbled under his breath as he searches.

Not a moment later he lets out a long, nearly hysterical breath and Don squeezes his eyes shut as he hears,

"Albuquerque, she's in Albuquerque."

/

Barely 24 hours later and he's on a flight to New Mexico.

He gives work some half assed excuse and buys a burner phone on the way to the airport, making sure to call Aram so he has the number but not trusting anybody else (because he can't risk this, not now). The flight is set to land at noon and Don feels his stomach rolling with each wave of turbulence, praying and begging that he's not too late despite the fact that Reddington is obviously trying to help him out.

Why, he doesn't know.

In the end it doesn't seem to matter what Reddington's intentions are because as soon as the plane hits the tarmac and the people begin to slowly filter out, Don is running. He hasn't brought any luggage so it's a straight shot out of the airport and to the car Aram had arranged for him to take the day before, that same piece of lined paper burning a hole in his pocket.

The drive is nerve wracking and Don is sweating; his stomach is still rolling and he feels like every turn he takes sends his heart into a new frenzy of erratic beating, banging against his ribs until it's nearly impossible to breathe.

It's a forty minute drive from the airport, the address leading him to a small neighborhood that seems to be almost empty and Don almost laughs because of course they're hiding in plain sight. It takes another moment to find the right house, his eyes darting to the paper in the passenger's seat every few minutes so he can be absolutely sure, but in the end he finds it tucked all the way in the back and by the time he puts the car in park his hands are shaking.

It takes a moment to pull himself together, to accept the fact that Liz is so close and after all this time Don will see her again, hold her and touch and her and know she's actually _there_ ; he'll be able to tell her he loves her and how much he's-

 _Oh._

When Don looks up he finds that Liz is standing in the doorway of the house, staring at him and tightening her grip on the baby boy in her arms (just like that photo) as if someone was going to rip him away from her and for a moment Don almost swears the Earth stops turning.

She's thinner than the last time he saw her, dark circles under her eyes and an expression that reads exhaustion making it hard for Don to tell what's going through her mind right now, though if he has to guess she's probably panicking.

Then there's the baby.

Don can't really see his face because he's pressed so closely to Liz (he doesn't even remember moving away from the car, much less climbing the stairs until he was right in front of her) but he can tell he has fair skin and blonde hair a few shades lighter than his own and if he were to hazard a guess he's almost certain his eyes are blue and all too familiar.

Maybe that's what makes it so hard to breathe.

And apparently Liz must see the look on his face because hers sort of falls when she sees him looking at the baby, wishing he would turn his head so he can confirm the very thing he's almost certain about, and she takes a deep breathe before stepping back and opening the door a little wider.

"You should probably come in."

/

The house's interior is plainly decorated, void of personal belongings except for the few toys and the play pen he sees sitting in the living room as he follows Liz down the hall, giving Don the sinking suspicion that they aren't going to be here much longer.

Neither of them speaks until they reach the kitchen and Liz puts the baby in his highchair, turning to Don when she's done and asking him if he wants anything.

"Water," he barely manages to choke out, because his mouth is dry and he knows he has to say something before he loses his mind.

Quietly Liz moves to the sink and fills a glass for him, carrying it back along with a sippy cup that she hands to the boy before sliding his glass across the island towards him, and before she can even blink he's already drained half of the glass.

She lets out an amused huff as he puts it down and Don lets his eyes flick up towards her face, desperate to see the tiny hint of a smile he knows is there. It's been so long since he's seen her smile and the moment he sees it he feels a weight lift off of him, doesn't even care that they have yet to actually say anything to each other.

He opens his mouth to say something— _anything—_ but then suddenly the baby lets out a squeal and Don looks over at him waving his arms happily and giving a gummy smile that's so infectious he can't help but smile back.

"You can hold him," Liz says suddenly, quietly, from the other side of the table, her eyes locking with his as his breath hitches in his throat.

When he hesitates Liz comes over to the high chair and easily scoops the baby up before putting him in Don's arms, stepping back and watching as Don looks at his son, fear and awe lighting up his face.

"His name is Sam." He barely hears Liz say, forcing himself to blink a few times as if all of it was going to disappear.

Sam squirms in his arms and for a moment Don thinks he's going to start crying so he does the first thing he can think of and gently starts bouncing the boy in his arms, shushing him and smoothing back his blonde locks. It's a natural feeling and warmth pools in Don's chest as he hugs and cradles his child, looking up to eventually find Liz watching them both with tears in her eyes.

Slowly, Don Stands with Sam pressed close against his chest and walks to Liz, body buzzing and desperate to touch her and he reaches out to pull her into a tight embrace just as she collapses against him and buries her face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you," he tells her, voice muffled by her hair, fingers twisting in her shirt as he fights to keep her close to him.

And though her voice is nothing more than cracked whisper, Don hears them as if she's screamed it from the top of the world.

 _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Because right now, that's all he needs to hear.

* * *

More than likely there's going to be a second part set after they clear Liz's name and have to adjust to a somewhat normal life but for now I just wanted to write the reunion between Don and Liz as well as him meeting his son. Let me know if this is garbage or not.


End file.
